


Silent Dawn

by darkponds



Series: Silent Dawn [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, aftermath interpretation, canon character death, slight blood tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 18:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10314227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkponds/pseuds/darkponds
Summary: The Starscourge was purged and the bloodline ended as destined. Even as the light floods, there are some that mourn the conditions of its return.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this drabble is essentially something to make me feel better about finishing the game. so needless to say, there are major spoilers. don't read it if you haven't finished chapter 14... i think i needed to write this because i'm just so depressed over it, like i need a support group or something. i'm ridiculously torn up about it. so here you go, have some angst and suffering, kids
> 
> if this gets a good response, i might make it a series and do multiple aftermath stories like for each individual chocobro

The daemons dissolve before their eyes. With sweat on their brows and blood on their hands, they take a breath and their weapons leave them. They look to the horizon where the light slowly begins to flood in. The daemons are vanquished by the purity of the morning.

Prompto lets his gun clatter to the concrete of the Citadel courtyard. No one makes a sound.

“Dawn.” Ignis tells his comrades. It’s not a question.

“When dawn breaks.” Gladio says heavily.

The silence is heavy after this small exchange. Prompto can’t find his words. They knew fully the reality of what was to pass. However when the time had come to acknowledge it, they had somehow fell short.

They walk side by side up the Citadel steps. The solemn quiet of the utterly peaceful air is weighing down heavily. There’s something inside of them that defies prophecy. There’s a small hope left at the bottom of their souls that maybe when they emerge into the throne room, there will be someone there waiting for them. They’ll see their friend and perhaps if he truly is doomed, they will at least have one final moment with him.

Every tap of their boots against the stone cold tiles reminds them of the omnipresent promise of Noctis’ fate from the very beginning. There was no fixing this. Though hope was wanted, it remained bleak.

The light filters in through the broken walls of the throne room, the ruble piled and tumbling down the curved staircase. Gladio and Prompto’s eyes follow it. The dusty light reflects of off Noctis’ frayed hair. He sits on the throne in his rightful place, the blade of past kings jutting from his chest with purpose. He promised he would sacrifice everything. And so he has.

“What becomes of it?” Ignis asks them. His voice cracks a bit, foreign to his own ears.

“He’s… He’s…” Prompto begins bet he can’t continue. He loses what small semblance of control he though he possessed and cries to no one. He cries for a friend that would now become a memory. He cries for prince that was destined to become a king only in death. He cries for the love he felt for Noctis. His heart is breaking even with the notion of knowing that this would be their end. They’ve waited ten long years for his return, only to have him ripped away from them once more.

Prompto can’t see Gladio’s face as he steps forward to ascend up the steps. He attempts to go after him, follow him up the steps to give his friend one last goodbye. But his legs fail him as they shake. He falls to the floor and is left immobile by the weight in his heart. Ignis falls forward down to his knees as he gathers Prompto up into a crippled but comforting embrace.

“It was foreseen, Prompto.” Ignis says with a heavy heart. “It was foreseen.” He lets the tears fall down out of his vacant eyes. They cling to each other as Gladio stands in front of Noctis’ hunched over form. He takes the sword in a shaky grasp and dislodges it with all his might. His friends below cringe at the steely and gruesome sound it makes as it leaves Noctis.

Gladio lets out a broken sob as he lifts Noctis’ limp body from the throne. He can barely stand. He tries to hold some kind of strength in his body for this task. He hooks his strong arms underneath his legs and supports his weight with his other arm holding his back. He descends with concentration in an attempt not to lose his footing. He still cries even as he reaches Ignis and Prompto. He places Noctis down gently on the floor and tries not to look at the blood that covers his torso.

Prompto looks at his face. It looks peaceful. It looks like he was at peace with fulfilling his duty.

_‘I’ve made my peace.’_

Prompto sobs again as he sees Ignis touches his shaky fingertips to the wound that litters Noctis. It _hurts._ It _hurts_ like nothing else has ever hurt.

Gladio watches as Prompto loses himself and he cannot help but follow suit. They gather around him, crowding his body. They hold him as if he’s still living. They hold him as if their time with him will somehow be returned to them if they held him tight enough. They cry as if their tears would somehow fall to him and heal his wound and give him new breath.

_‘Seeing you here now… It’s more than I can take.’_

They take him. The ride back is the worst thing Prompto has ever experienced in his life. Noctis is wrapped in a soft blanket, forever asleep. He can barley accept it, even in this proximity.

They don’t bury him. They want to make sure they can’t go back to a grave and constantly mourn him as if this wasn’t his decision. They want to make sure that his sacrifice is known as the sacrifice of a king. A king that died for his land and for his people. They burn his body on the high shore of Galdin Quay in a structure they’ve built of wood. Others showed up. Iris, Talcott, Cindy, Cor. They are all utterly silent. No one speaks.

He could have awoken and lived on in the darkness that surrounded them. He could have carried on knowing that he was only one that could put a stop the ten years of darkness and destruction. But he trudged on even in his most vulnerable hour and gave his life for the greater good.

And so that night on the shore, Noctis leaves them. Truly leaves them. But he gave them something as well. A promise. A strength between them. Strength to carry on; and a bond to lean on each other in times of need. A reason to continue on in a world that was now less bleak.

They walk away as the tide pulls in what little remains of the ashes and the turns the shelter into driftwood. They can only hope that when they finally reach that beyond, that they will see him once again.

Noctis’ words echo in their ears as if it’s all they should need to hear to ease the lingering pain of their loss.

_‘Walk tall, my friends.’_

**Author's Note:**

> please share your suffering in the comments so we can be sad together lmao


End file.
